Defiled

She waited for him. She knew he would come. He never failed to come every night.

She sat huddled at the left corner of her bed, her heart beating so fast, she could almost hear its thumping sound. Her body was so tense, she was afraid a vein would snap. She could not breathe; she wanted to cry but she could not. She could do nothing but wait his certain arrival. She wrapped herself so tight with her night wrapper, maybe this night he’d forget or maybe he’d fall asleep and not wake up till morning.

But she knew that he never forgot and if he ever slept, it was surely not before he came to her room. She wanted to pray but she could not. She had stopped praying for God to take him away, to stop him, whatever way he chose. She had stopped begging Him to take her and end her nightly pain. There was no God, she was sure of it. Or if there was, he must really hate her. Or else how could he…

The quiet measured footsteps down the passage way stopped her thoughts.

He was on his way. He was coming.

Her heart began to thud heavily. Stop him, merciful God, please stop him, make him turn back, she prayed silently, helplessly.

But the footsteps continued to draw closer. The door creaked as he pushed it open. He was ever so careful not to make a noise.

She pushed herself against the wall, her hands trembling as they held tightly to her wrapper. She drew her legs up to her chest and huddled at the far end of the bed, her arms tightly wrapped around her. Tears clogged her throat, but she did not cry out.

She never did.

He stretched out his hands and drew her from where she sat, huddled and trembling in fear. He sat her down on the edge of the bed. He was facing her but he did not look at her. He never looked her in the face; he never looked to see her pleading eyes.

But she looked at him.

The light that crept in from underneath the door made it possible for her to see his eyes. They were empty, cold; she could see nothing in his eyes but emptiness and they terrified her. He did not say a word, he never did. She wanted to say “please, don’t do this to me”. But she didn’t; she had stopped saying please for a long time now.

He bent and took the wrapper from her clenched fists and threw it aside, it landed on the floor as it did every night when he came. Then he removed her nightgown very gently. It was like a ritual, one that must be carefully performed. The nightgown, he threw aside too. Then, very gently, he took of her panties, that he didn’t throw aside, he neatly folded it and laid it beside her on the bed. After this, he pushed her gently down, so she was lying on her back. Then he straightened himself, removed his singlet and then his shorts and looked down at her naked form.

He loomed over like a massive being.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body tensed. It was coming.

He knelt before her, drew her hips to the very edge of the bed and parted her legs, so they were wide apart, and then he thrust himself into her. There was no gentleness in this. He thrust in and then out, and as he did, he grunted, groaned and panted.

This time, the tears did fall. Her eyes shut squeezed out tears but she made no sound.

He thrusts accelerated, and so did his groaning and grunting.

She clenched her fists on the bed, as he pushed deeper and faster into her, the tears came hotter and faster. The grunting sounds he made were like a beast in some kind of pain and then he went tense himself and finally heaved.

It was over.

He got up, picked up his singlet and put it back on and also the shorts. Without a word he turned, walked to the door, quietly opened it and went out.

The door clicked as it shut again.